


A Book Written in Love

by AuraWhiteFox



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-28
Updated: 2011-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-18 18:49:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuraWhiteFox/pseuds/AuraWhiteFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fanfiction was written for the National Poetry Multi-Fandom Exchange.</p><p>The poem that prompted this fanfiction was Epistle by Rhona McAdam</p>
    </blockquote>





	A Book Written in Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laceymcbain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laceymcbain/gifts).



> This fanfiction was written for the National Poetry Multi-Fandom Exchange.
> 
> The poem that prompted this fanfiction was Epistle by Rhona McAdam

“Coffee, Darling?” A soft voice spoke into Arthur’s ear.

Arthur grunted out, Eames must have taken it for agreement because not five minutes later a steaming mug of hot coffee was placed by his elbow.

Eames let out a huff of amusement as he watched Arthur drop his pen down long enough to inhale the sweet liquid.

“It’s going to be a cold one tonight, might even be snowed in.” Eames said conversationally as he moved around in the kitchen.

The kitchen and the living room was basically one big room, only a bar-like counter spilt the two apart. So it wasn’t hard for Eames to talk out loud and have Arthur hear him from his desk in the living room.

“Oh? That’s nice…” Arthur asked absentmindly, his mind already drawn back to the paper and pen in front of him.

Eames just smiled fondly at the back of Arthur’s head. Arthur hadn’t taken the time to groom today so his hair was a mess of cowlicks and bed head. Eames loved it, even though Arthur hated the knots that accumulated later on if he didn’t brush his hair out.

Turning his attention back the ingredients he was preparing for dinner, Eames began to daydream a bit as his expert hands prepared the food.

It had been Eames’ idea for Arthur to take the time today to write while Eames was otherwise occupied. He knew how preoccupied Arthur got whenever he sat down at his desk, so it wasn’t like he expected a comprehensive conversation anytime soon.

Arthur had already been a successful author when Eames had met him, so he had plenty of time already to adapt to Arthur’s inspired moments of writing.

Honestly, Eames found it adorable whenever Arthur got in a creative and inspired mood. The way he mindlessly gnawed his pens and pencils and ran his hands through his hair causing it to stand on end, adorable.

Arthur was an odd sort though; he preferred writing utensils and actual paper instead of typing on a computer or even using an old fashioned typewriter. But Arthur had beautiful handwriting and was something of a perfectionist with his grammar and spelling, so his publicist and his editor didn’t have room to complain too much.

Eames finished the preparations for tonight’s dinner and set it aside to cook later. It was still early enough that neither of them was really hungry yet.

After washing his hands in the sink and cleaning up the small mess he made Eames walked around the counter and moved into the living room. He strolled leisurely to a nearby window and peered outside.

Yep, they were defiantly going to get snowed in tonight. The ground outside was covered in what looked like three feet of snow and the skies were dark with storm clouds. The snow coming down looked light and soft but Eames knew that could change at any time.

Good thing he didn’t have to go back to work until next week, he wouldn’t be able to get into town even if he wanted to.

Eames smiled wickedly as he thought about the things he and Arthur could do with the extra time.

Even after three years of marriage the…thrill of being together hadn’t left them. In fact, if asked, Eames would say that it had heightened.

Which was saying a lot; even now, just thinking about their honeymoon caused Eames to go glassy-eyed with arousal.

Eames took one last look outside before moving away from the window.

Maybe he should go sort out some firewood…it was bound to get chilly later tonight, and Arthur really hated the cold. He always became aggravated if his feet got chilled.

If Eames had any hope of having sex later, then he best sort that out.

Eames walked to the front door and set about getting bundled up, lacing up his snow boots and putting on both a heavy coat and scarf. He debated on the gloves and wool hat; he knew he looked kind of dorky with them, as Arthur had commented on numerous occasions. The fabric on both of them was an interesting mixture of bright pink and green with a paisley pattern. Arthur had taken one look at them and wouldn’t sleep with him for a week.

But Eames liked them and wouldn’t let Arthur throw them out, no matter how much he hated sleeping on the couch. He’d gotten them on sale at an outside street market when he’d gone to Russia last year and they’d become something of a sentimental item to Eames.

“Arthur?” Eames called out before he left.

“…hmm?” Arthur mumbled without looking up.

“I’m gonna go outside for a bit. I’ll bring in some wood for the fireplace, so don’t fidget too much with me gone.” Eames said cheerily.

“…uh-huh…”

Eames rolled his eyes good naturally and opened the door, he was hit with a gust of cold wind that made him shiver despite the rather warm coat he had on.

Closing the door quickly behind so that the cold air wouldn’t get inside the house he tracked down the porch. His boots sunk deep in the snow once he got to ground level.

Smiling Eames took a deep breath. He loved the outdoors, which had been one of the contributing factors when they had bought this place two years ago.

Arthur had needed a quiet place to write and Eames had agreed that they hardly needed to live in the city to have fulfilling lives. They were both old enough that they didn’t feel the urge to go partying every night and get wasted. Eames would rather have a quiet night in with a bottle of wine and a cuddly Arthur then strobe lights and blasting music.

‘Maybe I’m getting old,’ Eames thought amusingly. A few years ago he would have felt offended and mortified if someone told him he would be married and settled down. Given that he’d been quite the party boy, it was understandable, but then he had met Arthur and his perspective of a good time had fundamentally changed forever.

Who needed party girls and body shots when he had a naked and begging Arthur in their bed?

Smirking at how dirty his thought process was turning, Eames walked through the heavy snow to the side of the house where the wood was stored. He was glad that Arthur had reminded him to stock up earlier in the week, else he would have to get the axe out and start cutting down the small trees nearby if they wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

Entertaining himself by watching his breath fog in the air in front of him Eames walked up to the stacks of wood and pulled out a tough leather cloth. Setting it on the ground in front of him he began to pile pieces of firewood on top of it.

After he got a good sized pile Eames took the handles on both ends and lifted. Grunting a little at the weight he slowly made his way back towards the porch, not wanting to trip and spill the wood all over.

Walking up the porch steps he went to a wooden box next to the door and dumped his load of firewood, arranging it so that they all sat nicely inside.

He made three more trips to the side of the house to gather wood; only once the box on the porch was filled up did Eames stop and take a breather.

The day was nearing its end and the snowfall was getting heavier the later it got. He could barely see the road in front of the house anymore.

Hmm…he wondered if Arthur would want to go play in the snow tomorrow if it lightened up, though probably not. He would have to be properly motivated if Eames wanted to get him out of the house.

He could always gather up some snow into a cup and pour it down Arthur’s back.

Eames shuddered and not just because of the cold. Arthur would slaughter him if Eames dared to pour snow on him.

Might be worth it though. Seeing Arthur startle like a distressed cat was always funny.

It was just that the claws that Arthur pulled out afterwards that weren’t much fun.

Stomping the snow off his boats he walked back into the warmth of the house.

Arthur hadn’t moved in the hour that Eames had been outside. He was still sitting in his chair, hunched over several pieces of paper. His pen held loosely in delicate fingers.

Eames took off the extra pieces of clothing, hanging them up to dry on hooks near the door. He toed off his boots before walking in socked feet to stand behind Arthur.

Eames didn’t have a clue what Arthur was working on, usually Arthur would share his ideas and thoughts about his books while he wrote them, but for some reason, he’d kept his latest work close to his heart and in his head.

Eames would have felt affronted about it, but he knew that Arthur didn’t mean to do it maliciously, Arthur was just being Arthur and Eames had learned the language of Arthur over trial and error over the years.

“Eames?”

Eames startled a little, blinking his eyes rapidly he realize that he had gotten lost in thought and gave Arthur a apologetic smile, making the worry in Arthur’s eyes disappear, replaced with fond annoyance instead.

‘Much better,’ Eames thought.

“Sorry darling, just got lost in the clouds of my head.” Eames said.

“Clouds Eames? More like evaporated air.” Arthur teased.

Eames grinned and retaliated by leaning down to press a soft kiss to Arthur’s lips.

Arthur let out a startled moan before pressing back. His warm lips parting and allowing Eames to leisurely slip his tongue inside to softly map Arthur’s mouth.

Eames let up before the kiss could get more heated, though it wasn’t easy, especially when Arthur let out a disapproving mew the moment Eames broke the kiss, but Eames still had to make dinner and get the fireplace going before they could get comfortable and start…more carnal acts.

Licking his lips he was pleased to see Arthur’s eyes zero in on his lips, the obvious heat and want on his face bared for Eames to see. Arthur never hid his emotions from Eames, at least not anymore.

Everyone else wasn’t so lucky, not that Eames cared. Arthur had a way of being painfully neutral or pleasantly blank with anyone else that wasn’t Eames or their friends.

“So, how’s the writing going love? Any problems?” Eames asked, genuinely interested.

It took a moment for Arthur to speak, the arousal still clear in his eyes and he was clearly fighting with himself to gain control over his urge to say fuck it and pin Eames to the ground.

Not that Eames would really mind that, in fact he would happily encourage such a thing from the usual self-contained man.

But Arthur gained his control back and answered Eames question instead.

Pity.

“Problems? No, no problems. I’m actually feeling very inspired lately. Mal will be pleased that I’m getting as much done as I am.” Arthur said dryly.

Eames laughed. “Of course she’d be pleased love, she is you’re editor. The more you write the more the masses and printing companies love you.”

Arthur just shook his head. Arthur had never really cared if his books were well liked or best sellers. He wrote because he loved putting his thoughts, ideas and imagination onto paper.

Arthur wrote in a mixture of genres. His first book had been a biography of his great grandfather who had been a soldier in the war. Arthur had found an old journal of his in his parent’s attic; he’d been sixteen at the time. He’d gotten his book published two years later and it had sold millions.

Arthur’s second book had been, interesting enough, a supernatural thriller. It had won two awards and spawned two sequels. It was still in the top-ten best seller list even after three years of being on the market.

After that Arthur had written a small science fiction teen book, then there had been a collection of poems. The only thing left that Eames could think of that Arthur hadn’t written was a child’s book or an erotic smut novel.

Arthur never limited himself in the language of words. He found inspiration in the oddest thing and would be driven to write with a focus that would frighten some people. But not Eames, never Eames. His love for Arthur was such a burning force that it still amazed him to this very day.

“So, you hungry yet pet?” Eames asked.

Arthur tilted his head to the side as he considered whether he was hungry enough or not to actually warrant moving.

“I could eat I guess.” Arthur said slowly. It was clear that he was loath to get up from his work, but after that one time he had fainted from hunger pains and Eames had flipped out, Arthur had made sure to take better care of himself, if not for his own sake, then for Eames’ emotional stability.

“Good, I’ll just go get the food ready and we’ll eat on the couch, alright? It should be done in 15 minutes or so. You want me to get the fire started now or later?” Eames said as he moved towards the kitchen.

“How about I get the fire going while you finish dinner.” Arthur called out, getting up from his chair to gather some of the firewood that was on the porch and bring it inside.

“Alright dear, just be careful, and don’t light yourself on fire this time.” Eames snickered.

“It was ONE time Eames!” Arthur shouted out.

Eames just laughed quietly. While it hadn’t been amusing at the time Arthur hadn’t gotten seriously hurt, so Eames could laugh about it nowadays. Arthur had even admitted afterwards that it had been pretty funny to the outside perspective.

It had sadly burned a hole in Arthur’s favorite sweater though, which had made the man sulk for days afterwards.

Dinner passed by pretty quickly and soon enough they stacked the sink with their dirty dishes and huddled on the couch in front of the fireplace where a cheerful fire was burning. Eames had turned off most of the lights in the house so everything was nicely dark and soothing.

Eames knew that Arthur would soon be bouncing up and down in order to get back to his work. But for now it was nice to get to relax with him while he was so relaxed.

“So…you going to tell me about this latest piece of literature you’re slaving over?” Eames poked Arthur in the side. Arthur was currently curled into Eames side, a small afghan wrapped around both of them.

“Hmm? Oh that…” Arthur mumbled.

“Yes that.” Eames said teased lightly.

Arthur sniffled in disproval at Eames’ teasing but leaned further into Eames’ body.

“Well it’s…actually I’m not sure if I want to tell you.” Arthur spoke truthfully.

“Oh? Why is that?” Eames asked and looked down at Arthur’s sheepish face.

“Well...I guess I’m kind of embarrassed.” Arthur said bashfully.

Eames chuckled softly. “You? Embarrassed? What could you possibly be embarrassed about? What, are you writing some romantic novel based on our passionate love for each other?”

Eames was only teasing but the continued silence from Arthur made him sit up a little, stunned.

“What…? Arthur, was I right?” Eames asked, astonished.

“Shut up Eames…” Arthur mumbled, burying his head into Eames chest.

“Sorry pet, but not this time. Now please, unbury your head from my manly chest and talk to me.” Eames chide softly.

Arthur groaned in protest but did as asked.

“Ok, fine. I’m basing my current book’s characters on us. Happy now?” Arthur grumbled out.

Eames blinked before giving a blindingly bright smile at Arthur’s uncertain face.

“Of course I’m happy darling. I’m just a little surprised is all. So what kind of book is it exactly?” Eames asked curiously.

Arthur blushed. “Umm, it’s kind of a mixture of romance and…eroticism actually.”

Eames raised an eyebrow, amused at both the blush on Arthur’s face and by what he was hearing.

“Oh? Does Mal know about this book yet?” Because if Mal knew, then Dom would surely know which means that Ariadne would have an idea, as well as Yusuf, and it would irritate Eames a little to know that he would be the last to know when he was usually the first.

But Arthur shook his head. “No, I’ve been writing outlines for it for a while but I hadn’t decided to actually write it until now. I’m going to call Mal later this week and bring her up to speed once I’ve got more written and planned out.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Eames agreed. The tight feeling in his chest eased, he wasn’t the last to find out and was, in fact, the first one like always.

The way it should be, Eames thought gleefully.

A comfortable silence filled the room and Eames pulled Arthur more securely into his arms, letting the comfortable weight of his husband settle on him.

“So darling…you wouldn’t happen to need more erotic experiences for your book would you?” Eames asked hopefully, an over-exaggerating leer on his face.

“Eames…” Arthur moaned and laughed as Eames smirked and pounced.

 

The End.


End file.
